


The Beauty of Dreams

by shipatfirstsight



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Fluff, Light Smut, post acomaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10074773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipatfirstsight/pseuds/shipatfirstsight
Summary: Dimly, Feyre was aware that she was dreaming. But she didn’t care. Rhys was there, running his hands over her body, soft and reverent.





	

Dimly, Feyre was aware that she was dreaming. But she didn’t care. Rhys was there, running his hands over her body, soft and reverent.

It had been two months, _two months_ , living in the Spring Court again, pretending she hated the people she loved most in the world. And she hadn’t--hadn’t counted on how hard it would be to force herself back into the role of Tamlin’s pretty, blushing bride. How hard it would be to keep civil with Ianthe.

Tamlin had informed her, after all, that Ianthe was _only_ trying to help. The high priestess herself had told her that.

“I wanted your sisters to join you in eternity. I thought it would make you happy,” Ianthe had said, and Feyre had to fight to keep her flames at bay, the feeling growing worse when Tamlin had squeezed her shoulder, and everything in her had recoiled from the touch. But she’d smiled, not letting her feelings show, and accepted the apology.

Feyre was rarely alone. Tamlin rarely left the house, trailing her throughout the day. If she was in a room, he’d inevitably end up there too. And on the days when he was gone, it was Ianthe that followed her around. She hated it. With Mor, Azriel, Amren, Cassian... _Rhys_ ….their presence wasn’t cloying. Wasn’t unwelcome. They were her friends first, and they would protect her, as she would protect them, but they didn’t remove her choices to do that.

Tamlin and Ianthe...they treated her like a wayward child. Ianthe swept into her room every day, picking out her outfits. She missed her Night Court attire almost as much as she missed her family. And Tamlin pushed her right back into planning parties; went right back to barely _letting_ her leave the house. She could feel Rhys’ anger through the bond, the echo to her own, and she loved him a little more for it.

Lucien wasn’t quite the same as Tamlin or Ianthe but...he suspected something. She wasn’t sure what he suspected, but he was still, despite everything...he had been her friend. And she knew, a part of her _knew,_ without Rhys she might never have escaped. Lucien had no one. But...she didn’t know if he would want to leave if she offered it. She couldn’t… she couldn’t find any solace in spending time with him instead of the other two. And he seemed to avoid her as much as she avoided him, refusing to even meet her eyes over dinners.  

And all of them, all of the Spring Court, took any opportunity to spew hate against the Night Court, _her_ court. They sought her out to tell her how lucky she was to escape the lord of Night. Feyre knew that this was part of the game, part of what Rhys had done to protect his people. But every hurtful word was like a knife to her heart, and she had to pretend to agree with all of them, constantly aware of the watching eyes of Tamlin and Ianthe.  

Her room was her only refuge. She’d told Tamlin she wanted to sleep alone, she needed to sleep alone, that first night when he’d tried to follow her into her room. She’d told him she needed time to...process what had happened to her. He’d bought it, at least. But she’d worried ever since when he’d decide to try and force the issue, how she would dissuade him.

Now, none of that mattered. Rhys was lying beside her; she wasn’t sure where they were, but she didn’t care. The jasmine and citrus and sea scent of him filled her nose, soothed her as she ran her nose up and down his neck. He was holding her, breathing her in too, content just to hold her like that.

“ _Rhys_ ,” she breathed finally, breaking the silence that had been over them since she’d slipped into this dream, already in his arms. “I miss you so much.” It was confession, truth, and she knew it really didn’t need saying, knew that if he’d felt it every day through the bond, just as she’d felt how much he missed her, but it felt so good to admit it out loud. To be able to say those words.

His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer to him. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, placing a kiss there. She felt and heard his breath hitch, felt him struggle to control his emotions, before he rasped out, “I miss you too.”

“How is everyone?” She'd been so worried--so worried about all of them. 

“Healing. The healers...they still don’t know about Cassian's wings. Azriel's all healed, though. And your sisters are adjusting. Or trying to. Mor and Amren keep telling me to come and get you. Bring you home.”

“You haven’t though,” statement and question all in one.

He shook his head. “I understand why you’re doing this. But you must...you didn’t fail us Feyre,” his voice was hard on the words, “and you weren’t unimportant. We _all_ miss you. We all wait for the day when you can come home.”

“I love you Rhysand,” she said, quietly, not knowing really what else to say, finding it important to say the words, important to add his name to the words. She’d had to say them to Tamlin, only a few times over the past two months, but she never added his name, always finishing the voiced _I love you_  with _Rhysand_ in her mind.

Rhys rose up, rolling her slightly so he could settle above her. “I love you, Feyre, so much, so much...” and then he cut himself off, leaned down and kissed her lips, softly. So heartbreakingly gentle, and she knew he was trying to savor it.

When he pulled back, both of them a little breathless, she asked, “Did you enter my dreams or did I enter yours?”

He considered, tangling one hand in her hair and raising the other to brush her hair back from her face. “A little of both, I’d say. We were only recently mated and it’s hard to be apart for very long that far after. The bond may have just let us find a way together for this night.”

Feyre tangled her own hand in his hair, pulling him down to her, kissing him slow and deep. “ _I wish it had done it sooner_ ,” she said in his mind through the crack left open only to her.

He groaned, deepening the kiss, responding briefly, “ _So do I_.”

And that was all before he dragged his lips from hers, down, down her neck, lowering her back to the ground to free both his hands and settling back on his knees between her spread legs. She helped him when his hands moved to lift her shirt up, _up_ , off, cool wind brushing her skin, peaking her nipples. He smiled down at her, lazy, like they had all the time in the world when they didn’t...they didn’t. She would wake up, or he would, and this would be over and she didn’t know when it would come again.

“Whatever time we have,” he said, leaning down, placing a kiss to the underside of one breast, “will be time enough. For now, of course. Once this is all over, I think we should both go back to the cabin and fuck each other until we’re hoarse.”

“You _could_ fuck me until we’re hoarse now,” she suggested, smiling down at his head as he raised his eyes to look at her.

“And what will Tamlin think when you have no voice tomorrow?” He was teasing, but she hated to hear Tamlin’s name in this place they’d carved for themselves.

“I don’t care,” she said, arching into Rhys when he ran his teeth over one nipple, scraping gently. And then she paused, running over his words. “Will whatever we do affect us when we wake up?”

“Mmmmm,” he murmured. “At least, I think so. Do you want to see?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she said, and didn’t know or care if she said it out loud or through their bond. His teeth bit down on the sensitive skin of her breast, sucking softly. A hand, calloused and warm, trailed down her stomach, lower, _lower_ , tracing her through the lace underwear she wore. She writhed, trying to get that hand closer, trying to get him to slip that finger inside. He was sucking and biting at her breast still, and he moved his finger lazily, up and down the seam of her. She could feel the wetness pooling, and he chuckled in his throat. Feyre was ready to growl at him, to beg, but he was already pushing the fabric out of the way, his finger finally dragging over her, and finally crooking in.

“ _Rhys_ ,” she moaned the name, out loud, wanting to wreck her voice from being loved by him and from loving him. Wanted perversely to have that when she woke up to prove this was real. He rose up, slightly, releasing her skin from his mouth. She looked down, smirking at the hickey he’d formed there on her breast.

“To remember me by,” he explained, looking up.

Her breath hitched, trying to focus on more than that finger moving inside of her. “As though I could forget you.” And she pulled him down, kissing him, biting his lower lip. Moaning when he added a second finger to his ministrations.

“Inside,” she said, a command and plea together, "I want you inside me," but he kept pumping his fingers, his thumb stroking over her clit, pressing down, down, until she came with a scream, arching into him. And that was when he entered her, slowly, so slowly, and her world narrowed to the feel of him moving inside of her. He was slow about making love to her that time, savoring it, she could tell, drawing it out to make it the sweeter. And still she moaned his name, not caring if the sound traveled out through her sleeping throat. And when she came again, he followed soon after.

Rhys made her scream his name, over and over, before the dream was finished, but she took no small amount of satisfaction in the fact that she’d made him scream her name as well.

And when she woke, her voice was indeed hoarse from it and there was that hickey still on her breast. She ran trembling fingers over it, fighting back the sob of relief she felt building in her throat, bringing her other hand to her lips, swollen from his kisses. _Real_ , she realized, not just wishful dreaming, but somehow, miraculously real. She could feel his own shuddering relief at it, at waking and finding the proof that, even for only one night, they’d gotten to see each other. And maybe...just maybe, they'd be able to see each other like that again. It strengthened her resolve, reminded her what she was fighting for, who she was fighting for.

_I love you Rhysand_ , she whispered down the bond, pouring all her love into him, feeling his love respond to her own. And then she got up to find a way to bring the Spring Court and Hybern to their knees.


End file.
